


Accentuated

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [49]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, accent kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8397688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: When he's tired... Hux's tongue slips.





	

The first time it slips out, he’s on the brink of sleep. They’ve been wrapped in one another for hours, not even fucking for most of it, and Hux can’t keep both his eyes open together for more than thirty seconds. His words get slurry and the vowels all shift, and Kylo listens with rapt fascination, but the sense of the conversation is as gone as the man near-drooling on his shoulder.

He has to have more. It’s just so _delicious_. Instead of the crisp, cannon-fire arsenal, it’s whisps of smoke, fragrant and heady. 

It becomes a mission.

Kylo is more intelligent and conniving than most give him credit for (which is also part of his intelligence and conniving, because to be underestimated is to be safer, more often than not). He understands scientific, rigorous method, and he starts making notes about which words are more likely to shift in Hux’s throat. Some of them are more likely to produce the other accent (homlier ones, not ones about duty and order, but ones about thinking and feeling). Topics shift his register, and if you can get him talking about his interests instead of his obligations, he’ll mellow around the edges.

Sleep does it, too. He’ll mutter whole nonsense poems in that burr when he doesn’t realise it, or when he’s on the edge. Fuck him hard enough and he’s a whole other person underneath. Make him count very fast, or think too quickly, or provoke an almost-fight, and the honey-poison drips from his tongue.

It makes Kylo _shudder_. 

In a good way.

He’s in the middle of a vigorous wrestling match over something inconsequentially important when Hux says his _name_ like that, and a moan bursts out.

“What?”  


“Do it again,” Kylo begs.  


“Do _what_ again?”  


“Say my name.”  


“…Ren?”  


“No… fuck. Say it like you just did.”  


Realisation dawns, and Hux tries to withdraw, but Kylo won’t accept it. He flips him over again, grabbing for his face. 

“Kylo, I’m not–”  


“Say it _like you said it_.”  


Pain, shame, horror. Why? What’s so wrong with it? It’s natural, and it’s beautiful, and he wants more.

“I’m not… that person any more. I’m… better.”  


“No,” Kylo huffs, and nuzzles at his neck. “Your voice is beautiful. You could make me come just by talking at me.”  


“I was a provincial _nothing_.”  


“You were never nothing, Hux. If it makes you… uncomfortable… you don’t need to use it.” He knows about bad memories. “But I like it. If you feel like talking that way, when it’s just us.”  


Hux’s nose wrinkles. “Really?”

“Really. Say ‘fuck me’ like that, and I’ll drop _everything_.”  


A little laugh. “That sounds like a challenge.”

It so is. 


End file.
